Cry Havoc
by Ssergit
Summary: Yelina/Horatio. Horatio is sick of Stetler’s treatment of Yelina, and decides to take matters into his own hands. NOTE: Story is unfortunately abandoned indefinitely. Sorry!
1. Chapter One

Title: Cry Havoc

Summary: "Cry 'havoc!' And let slip the dogs of war" –Julius Caesar.

Horatio is sick of Stetler's treatment of Yelina, and decides to take matters into his own hands.

Chapter Summary: Yelina comes across Horatio right after his goodbye conversation with Rebecca

Rating: G for now, might change later on for language or violence

He wasn't sure if he could be more angry with himself, although really, he should be angry at her. Ironic, he thought—he'd started dating Rebecca partly because he'd been attracted to her, and partly because he wanted to see what would happen if he had a relationship with someone he worked with. Maybe that made some of what had happened his fault; hard to have a solid relationship with one woman when you're really thinking of someone else….Now, he just felt _dirty_. None of that had to do with Yelina—she wasn't the one who'd made a deal with a cop killer. '_Unconscionable_,' he said to himself, pronouncing judgment where no one else would.

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated and angry he got. He kept going over their conversation in his mind, and all he could see was her blind determination to stand by her decision. He could see it in her face—she _truly_ didn't think she'd done anything wrong—and the more he pictured it, the more her beauty was marred in his mental image by the ugliness of her actions.

Unaware of his surroundings, and lost in thought, he continued along the path to his car, completely oblivious to the fact that Yelina had just walked past him. When her casual hello was completely ignored, Detective Salas knew there was something wrong.

"Horatio?"

This time he heard her.

"Yelina, hi," he said, clearly distracted. "Is there something wrong?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," she said, pointing to the mangled folder he was still twisting in his hands. "I hope that wasn't something important…"

Caine looked down at his hands in confusion, his forehead furrowed in surprise to see the remains of a file folder there.

"Me too," he said, throwing a slight smile in her direction.

"Here, let me see if I can fix it," she said, ignoring the inner voice in her head that told her she only offered her help because it gave her a chance to touch him. Pulling the twisted paper from his hands, Yelina let her hair fall from her shoulders to hide the slight blush that stemmed from their hands touching.

After smoothing out the documents carefully, she opened the manila folder to see if the contents were readable. They were—and she managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like legal proceedings for a plea bargain, before Horatio took them back. She looked up, startled that he'd taken it from her while she was still reading, and saw that his jaw was twitching slightly—a clear sign that he was upset. Before he spoke, she cast her mind about, trying to find some connection between the case she'd seen referenced in the file folder and any reason he'd be upset. She came up blank for a long moment before a name floated up out of the blue—Rebecca-

"It wasn't," he said gruffly. "Important, that is."

In truth, he looked like he would like nothing better than to toss the wrinkled papers in the nearest trash bin. Yelina was about to simply say good night, and let him deal with his anger alone, when the sound of squealing tires shocked them both. Instantly Caine's hand was resting on his weapon and his body moved to block hers. They both relaxed when they saw whose vehicle it was—the very same prosecutor whose name was on the crumpled folder he carried. Yelina recognized her car from when the woman had made a snide comment to her in the parking lot before driving away. She looked up at Horatio and saw that he was frowning, the folder once more in his fists, twisting.

"You're upset at her." It wasn't a question. He nodded curtly, stalking over to a trash bin and ridding himself of the outdated plea bargain paperwork. Salas recalled that he'd been angry at Rebecca earlier for making a deal with the cop killer—before the ride-along had taken justice into his own hands. She hadn't agreed with the woman's choice either, but had to look at it as part of the job. Something told her that for him, it was more than that, this time. She'd seen them together, her heart twisting a little to see him smiling at someone else—but she didn't have any right to jealousy. '_Just keep telling yourself that, Cara,_' he grandmother's voice echoed in her head, calling her by the nickname as always. It meant 'darling.'

"She made a mistake, a foolish one," Yelina said, rhetorically. She brushed her hair from her eyes and looked at him, catching a strange look in his eyes. It was almost accusatory, and she wondered if he was applying her words to her relationship with the IAB investigator, Rick Stetler.

"Yes, she did."

The look again, and this time she was almost convinced he was taking their conversation as a double entendre.

"Hard to forgive someone for something like that," she said, not quite playing along.

"Yes."

"Maybe she didn't think what she was doing was wrong," Yelina said, bravely. Horatio didn't answer, but he stepped closer to her and lifted his arm, as if to reach out and pull her to him. The look in his eyes, though, was anything but romantic. Not threatening either, just…

"Maybe she didn't, but…" he said thickly, his hand finally coming to rest on her upper left arm. Suddenly, she knew why, and she tried to pull away, only to confirm his suspicions when he tightened his grip and she winced in pain. If she had been looking at his face she'd have been frightened by the violence of his reaction to the proof he'd been looking for. Anger mixed with deep, deep regret.

"Yelina," he said, somehow managing to keep his tone even.

"It's all right," she said in a small voice, "you didn't hurt me."

"I know _I_ didn't," he said angrily.

TBC…


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Cry Havoc

Summary: "Cry 'havoc!' And let slip the dogs of war" –Julius Caesar.

Horatio is sick of Stetler's treatment of Yelina, and decides to take matters into his own hands.

Chapter Summary: A particularly dark chapter; Yelina says something in anger that forces Horatio to face things he has been trying to forget for years

Rating: G for now, might change later on for language or violence

"I'm fine," she said in a shaky voice that made her statement a lie.

"Are you?"

"It's none of your business, Horatio." She stepped back from him, trying to sound businesslike, attempting to stonewall him out of the conversation she knew he meant to have with her.

"How do you figure?" He sounded perfectly reasonable, but she knew he must be furious with her. Deep down, she knew he should be, but she did _not_ want to live her life under his protective shadow. Her problems were just that. Hers.

"How do you figure," he said again, this time stepping forward again, trying to put her off-balance, the way he would with a suspect. "When your son is also my nephew? How do you figure, when he could be in danger? Is THAT none of my business?"

In her selfishness, she hadn't realized that he would take this tack with her. She could stand up to him when it had to do with her own safety, but Caine had every right to worry about Ray Jr.

Horatio could see her defiance deflate immediately, and felt almost guilty for confronting her so forcefully. The truth was, if they hadn't had a history together—or distinct _lack_ of one—he'd have been able to be more convincing, he thought. Ironic, the time he'd spent saving people from abuse to be incapable of saving the one person he needed to save. One thing was for certain—intimidation tactics were _not_ going to work here.

"I won't pretend that Ray is my only concern here," he said, more calmly now, "and we both know that unless you file some kind of a report…" She shivered, imagining the look on Rick's face when his own IAB buddies came to him about a domestic report. What was to stop him from asking them to give him some time before he was forced into custody, that he had just one errand to run first… She shook her head, meaning to clear her mind from such thoughts, and he took it to mean she was trying to deny his feelings.

"I can protect you, Yelina," he said, more tenderly than he'd intended. The frustration of the whole situation—coupled with a resentment she thought she'd buried deep down inside—broke through, and she made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

"Like you protected-" she broke off in horror, unable to quite comprehend the blow she'd just struck him with her unthinking comment. She was denied any reaction on his part, as he turned and simply walked away from her. Yelina watched his back as he moved farther away from her, her eyes shining with tears of incredible regret. Her breath shallowed as she recalled where he would surely be going this evening—to visit the family of a dead police officer, one who was killed in the line of duty. What more cruel last words could she have sent him off with?

It was a study in control, as Horatio Caine carefully maneuvered his vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the road. He studiously ignored the rear-view mirror, knowing that if he looked back, he would be able to see her remorse no matter how many square feet were between them. The truth was he'd been waiting for _years_ for Yelina to finally let out some of her negative feelings about his brother's death. The first few years, he'd even provoked her a little bit, trying to get her to release her pent-up emotions. He still had a tiny scar on his knuckles from the one time he let himself go, although the wall he'd spent 10 minutes punching had fared worse, Caine recalled with a tight smile. He sighed deeply, almost an attempt to drown out the sound of her voice saying it over and over again. Each repetition got harsher, until he could hear her rich voice practically accusing him of Ray's murder…

The staccato sound of a horn from behind him reminded him that a busy intersection in Miami was not the place to reminisce. With another long sigh, he locked away his current thoughts as he pulled up in front of the slain policeman's house.

"Mom, will you stop pacing? It won't make '_Rick_' get here any faster," Ray Jr. griped. He knew that it was typical not to like your mom's boyfriend, but that Stetler guy just rubbed him the wrong way. Not to mention the fact that he didn't like the way he got sent away any time the adults started arguing—like he couldn't see the way his mom walked the next day. She would move around the kitchen as if any loud sound or sudden movement would send her cowering into a corner. Ray just didn't get it. His mom was a strong woman—he knew that from experiencing her chastisements any time he slipped up. Why she would put up with behavior like that…

"This isn't about him," she said absently, piquing her son's interest. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear, and he could tell that's not what she'd intended to say, either.

"Some problem at work?" he asked, trying to sound protective. Maybe if he let her know he'd look out for her, she wouldn't feel like she needed the help of some slimy guy who beat her.

"Yes-no-" she broke off, obviously distressed about something. "Have you finished your homework?" she asked, changing the subject the way only mothers can. Ray groaned, now wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. Yelina nodded toward the stairs, indicating that the conversation was over. It was just as well, as he recognized the tell-tale car door that meant his mother's boyfriend had just arrived. He wondered if Stetler would get more out of his mom about what was bothering her than he could, but he didn't have to wonder long. He could hear them even with his door shut.

Horatio punched his pillow in frustration. When he'd come home that evening, all he had wanted to do was forget the whole day, and for him, the best way to do that was to sleep. Sleep was not forthcoming, however. His mind was racing a mile a minute, seemingly trying to create some sort of macabre collage of all the day's experiences, placing everything that was most hurtful in the center. It hadn't helped that the widow he spoke to was Hispanic, with soulful brown eyes that triggered the long buried memories of Yelina the days after Ray's death. His mind kept overlaying her tearful denials of the truth with her cruel accusation of that evening, morphing them back and forth until the images were seared into his brain. Caine rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, understanding finally why it was bad to repress memories; why it was good to deal with them at the time…

The question resurfaced, like it always did, but this time he didn't push it away. '_Is this my fault? Could I have done more?_' The waves of remorse, of regret. Raymond Caine had gotten in over his head, that much was for sure. But could Horatio have done anything more than he had? The sad irony of it was that usually, it was Yelina's calm reassurances to him that usually drove away these demons. But not tonight. Yes, he had done all he could have, and no, it wasn't his fault…

Caine got up, knowing that sleep was not the release he wanted right now. What he needed was to make things right with Yelina. As angry as he'd been, hours before, he knew in his heart that she hadn't meant to say what she'd said—well, almost said. Before he'd turned away he'd seen the look of horror on her face. Settling himself in a chair, he dialed her number from memory, trying to formulate in his mind a greeting that didn't sound lame.

Two rings.

Three… four.

Horatio was starting to get worried, when finally a voice answered.

It was male, and the tone was decidedly unfriendly, even _before_ Horatio spoke.

"Hello, Rick."

TBC…


End file.
